"It's so cold," Trinity said, shivering, "I wonder if I could die from exposure." Drew looked at her tiny body
"It's not that cold," he said. Trinity glared at him.
"Excuse me, Mr. I Know Everything. You're not seven inches tall." Drew laughed. Trinity's frown grew.
"You're not either," he said, "I'd guess it was more like six and a half inches." Trinity would have given anything to be able to kick him.
"What I'm saying," she struggled to stay calm, "Is that I am a itty-bitty person dressed only in my underwear, it's the middle of fucking February, and I am really, really cold! Do you think you could try and find me something small enough to use as a blanket?"
"Do you have any doll clothes?" Drew asked. Trinity buried her face in one of her now oversized pillows, and began to shout muffled obscenities. Drew tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and looked at him, her tiny face pink from lack of air.
"Drew," she began, "I am twenty-three years old. Why the fuck would I have any doll clothes? Get me a washcloth, please?" Drew looked at her in puzzlement.
"Why?" he asked. Trinity narrowed her eyes.
"Because it's the only thing I can think of that would be small enough for me to use as some sort of cover up," she told him, plopping down on the bed. Drew nodded in understanding, then left the room. He returned in a few moments with a pale, purple washcloth.
"I thought you might like the purple one," he said. Trinity had to smile.
"I don't really think it matters what color it is, since no one else is going to see me," she said, "but thanks all the same." She struggled to fashion some sort of garment out of the cloth. Drew watched her with a measure of amusement. She looked up at him.
"You're loving this, aren't you?" she asked ruefully. Drew grinned.
"Loving what?" he asked, innocently. Trinity frowned at him, again, her tiny forehead wrinkling with the effort.
"I am completely at your mercy," she said, "you can't make me believe that you don't enjoy that. After all, isn't this exactly what you said you wanted the other day?" Drew's smile faded.
"You can't possibly believe that this is my fault," he said, "I was just playing around with that idea." Trinity looked at him irritably.
"What the hell am I supposed to think?" she asked. "When I went to bed, I was a normal size. I wake up and I'm seven, no, excuse me, six and a half inches tall. And who just happens to find me? It's not like I've got a lot of options right now." Drew frowned at her.
"How do I know you didn't do this yourself?" he asked. "You've been fooling around with that witchcraft stuff. Maybe you did this so I'd have to take care of you." Trinity punched her pillow in anger.
"Why in the hell would I want to do something that put me at your mercy?" she cried angrily. "You can't take care of yourself, much less me. And that witchcraft shit was back when we first broke up, no wait, when you dumped me, and it's not like I could do anything. If I could have, it wouldn't have been this, that's for sure!"
"What do you mean I can't take care of myself?" Drew fumed. "I'm not the one who's seven inches tall here..."
"Six and a half," Trinity retorted, "And at least I'm healthy." Drew looked at her.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked. Trinity exhaled heavily, closed her tiny eyes, and slowly shook her head.
"Drew, you're not well," she said, "You haven't been for some time. You're way too skinny, and you're always sick, and you look horrible. You look like the life is being sucked out of you. If this is what 'being happy' does for you, you were definitely better off when you were so unhappy with me." Drew scratched the back of his neck.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. Trinity sighed, and leaned heavily against the pillow.
"It doesn't matter," she said, "All I know is that I need you right now, and there's really no point in us fighting about this." Drew nodded slowly in agreement.
"Okay," he said, "What do we do now?"